THE VISTA OF ENGLISH VERSE PART FIRST 'BALLADS (OF VARIOUS AND UNCERTAIN DATES) CHEVY CHASE (Sometimes called The Hunting of the Cheviot) THE Perse owt off Northombarlonde, 5 In the magger of doughtë Dogles, The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat he sayd he wold kyll, and cary them away: 'Be my feth,' sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn, 'I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.' Then the Perse owt off Banborowe cam, with him a myghtee meany, With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and bone, the wear chosen owt of shyars thre. This begane on a Monday at morn, in Cheviat the hillys so he; The chylde may rue that ys unborn, it wos the more pittë. The dryvars thorowe the woodes went, Then the wyld thorowe the woodës went, This begane in Chyviat the hyls abone, yerly on a Monnyn-day; Be that it drewe to the oware off none, a hondrith fat hartës ded ther lay. The blewe a mort uppone the bent, He sayd, 'It was the Duglas promys this day to met me hear; But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;' a great oth the Persë swear. At the laste a squyar off Northomberlonde lokyde at his hand full ny; He was war a the doughetie Doglas commynge, with him a myghttë meany. Both with spear, bylle, and brande, The wear twenti hondrith spear-men good, The wear borne along be the watter a Twyde, 'Leave of the brytlyng of the dear,' he sayd, The dougheti Dogglas on a stede, 'Tell me whos men ye ar', he says, Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Chyviat chays, in the spyt of myn and of me.' The first mane that ever him an answear mayd, yt was the good lord Persë: 'We wyll not tell the whoys men we ar,' he says, 'nor whos men that we be; But we wyll hounte hear in this chays, in the spyt of thyne and of the. 'The fattiste hartës in all Chyviat we have kyld, and cast to carry them away:' 'Be my 'ther for the ton of us shall de this day.' troth,' sayd the doughetë Dogglas agayn, Then sayd the doughtë Doglas unto the lord Persë: To kyll alle thes giltles men, alas, it wear great pittë! ‘But, Persë, thowe art a lord of lande, Nowe Cristes cors on his crowne,' sayd the lord Persë, 'who-so-ever ther-to says nay; Be my troth, doughttë Doglas,' he says, 'thow shalt never se that day. 'Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France, nor for no man of a woman born, But, and fortune be my chance, I dar met him, on man for on.' Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde, Richard Wytharyngton was his nam; 'It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde,' he says, 'to Kyng Herry the Fourth for sham. 'I wat youe byn great lordës twaw, I am a poor squyar of lande: I wylle never se my captayne fyght on a fylde, But whylle I may my weppone welde, That day, that day, that dredfull day! the first fit here I fynde; And youe wyll here any mor a the hountyng a the Chyviat, yet ys ther mor behynde. The Yngglyshe men hade ther bowys yebent, ther hartes wer good yenoughe; The first off arros that the shote off, seven skore spear-men the sloughe. Yet byddys the yerle Doglas uppon the bent, a captayne good yenoughe, And that was sene verament, for he wrought hom both woo and wouche. The Dogglas partyd his ost in thre, lyk a cheffe cheften off pryde; With suar spears off myghtte tre, the cum in on every syde: Thrughe our Yngglyshe archery gave many a wounde fulle wyde; Many a doughetë the garde to dy, which ganyde them no pryde. The Ynglyshe men let ther boys be, bryght swordes on basnites lyght. Thorowe ryche male and myneyeple, many sterne the strocke done streght; Many a freyke that was fulle fre, ther undar foot dyd lyght. |